


On a sea of ice and steam

by psychoticmidds, tatch



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Adventures!, Alternative Universe - Mermaids, Alternative Universe - Steampunk, Cannibalism, F/M, Leonard is a mermaid, M/M, Mick is a pirate, Pirate related violence & cussing, Tail stroking fetish, Victorian era (more or less)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticmidds/pseuds/psychoticmidds, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While hunting for treasure, a crew of pirates finds more than what they bargained for. Adventures ensue. For those who survived, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a sea of ice and steam

**Author's Note:**

> Psychoticmidds writes Mick and I write Len.

 

 

The water laps softly against the ship, rocking it gently back and forth with the soothing rhythm of the waves. Most of the members of the crew were below deck, singing and drinking loudly, or asleep in hammocks and bunks. Even Captain Wells had turned in for the night, leaving the helm to his first mate; Roy Bivolo. It’s that time of the night, when all seems to still and everything goes silent. The night is clear enough that the moon and the stars shine brightly in the sky, almost clear enough that they didn't need light to sail.

 

At the stern of the ship, Mick Rory is on lookout duty, bottle of rum in his hand, drinking without a worry. What the hell was he supposed to be looking out for anyway? _Mermaids_? Please, it’s not like those things were even real. Just an urban legend Pirates tell themselves to freak each other out on long nights. Horror stories. Nothing more. Mick leans against the railing, placing his arms folded out in front of him as he looks out on the water, his eyes straying to the horizon every now and then. Raising only his hand, he holds the bottle in to take a swig from it, the liquor warming him up. His breath is making little hot puff of steamy breath in the cold night's air. Mick hopes they find this treasure soon, he can't wait to get back to warmer climates.

 

God damn goose chase that this was, Captain Wells wasn't even sure there was a treasure so far up North, he’d had a _hunch_. Well, dear Captain better fucking hope there was something, or Mick would start a damn mutiny all on his own. The only one he was even remotely concerned he couldn't handle was Grodd. But, if he played his hand right, he could recruit the giant scary pirate to his side. Suddenly, in the water, Mick saw something shimmering in the frozen light of the moon.

 

"What the fuck?” He mutters out loud to himself quietly, straightening up and leaning forward to get a better look at the thing coming towards the ship. It was too cold out here for dolphins, maybe it was a seal. Seals lived out in the Arctic didn't they? One could have strayed a bit further south. Mick contemplated this for a minute and shook his head when the shimmering faded away before his very eyes. Maybe it was just the rum playing with his head. Finishing it off, Mick turns away from the rail and tosses the bottle over his shoulder. When he doesn't hear the splash, Mick slowly turns around. There, sitting on the railing with the empty bottle of rum in his hand, is a goddamn _mermaid_ . Well, technically, a _merman._ Had Mick not been the one to see it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. Mick just stands there frozen, staring at the creature before him.

 

Said merman sniffs the neck of the bottle then puts it delicately next to him on the railing. He’s lean and has very short dark hair that seem sprinkled with silver. He’s also quite pale but Mick guesses people don’t get much sunlight under the sea. His tail disappears over the railing and from where he is, Mick can’t see the end of it. It’s shimmering under the moonlight and looks blue-ish. The torches don’t provide enough light for Mick to see much more than this.

 

The merman must take Mick’s flabbergasted silence for an invitation because he speaks, his eyes fixated on Mick. “Would you humans stop throwing shit into the ocean? The currents are carrying it into my house and it’s disgusting.”

 

Mick remembers the stories saying that mermaids voices are supposed to be tantalizing murmurs and promises of otherworldly pleasures but this guy’s just a cold lazy drawl. He blinks. Is he supposed to be mesmerized now? He doesn’t feel any different though. The merman must be tired of waiting because when he speaks again, his voice is laced with annoyance. “Are you gonna answer me or should I just sink your ship and be done with you?”

 

“Aren’t you seafolks s’pposed to charm humans, not threaten them?” Mick grumbles, cursing the non existence of his mouth to brain filter as the words come out. The merman tilts his head to the side, looking thoughtful and a bit amused.

 

“Would you like me to?” And his voice is clearly warmer this time, the edge of a tease in it.

 

Mick snorts. “Don’t waste your time on a guy like me.”

 

The merman seems surprised. Mick just shakes his head and grunts “I’ll see what ‘ah can do ‘bout-” He waves a hand over to the sea.

 

“Throwing your shit over and into my house?”, the merman provides, his arms now crossed, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Yeah. That.” Mick mumbles.

 

The merman simply nods once and then lets himself fall back over the railing. There’s an almost inaudible splash and Mick rushes to the railing, doubling over it, straining his eyes to see anything in the dark.

Mick shouts: “Hey, wait!” Something shimmers and a pair of eyes look up at him, curious. He shouts again: “What should I call yah?” And is it him or is the merman smirking?

 

“You can call me Len.” And with that, the merman, Len, dives and disappears.

 

* * *

 

 

The day after that is long. It’s colder than the previous ones but it looks like Captain Wells is satisfied with the ship’s advance. “We’re close.” Mick hears him say to Bivolo at some point. Close to what exactly? There’s nothing but sea as far as the eye can see. Some of the sailors are starting to sound disgruntled. Word must reach the Captain’s ears, because the rum flows freely that evening and the men’s spirit is lifted just that easily.

 

Mick takes the night shift again, bottle of rum in hand, and heads to the railing where he’d seen Len the night before. He doesn’t drink that much, doesn’t want his next encounter with the merman to be anything like the slightly blurred memories of the previous night. Mostly to make sure that the merman he saw was actually real, and not some hallucination brought on by the amount of Rum he drank. He had been just drunk enough for him to now doubt whether the meeting had really happened or not. Mick sets the bottle on the railing and closes his eyes, listening to the soft clap of the waves hitting the ship. There's a sudden whoosh on his right and he turns sharply. Len the merman is finishing seating himself on the railing, just out of reach, the bottle between them. Tonight, Mick chose to stand much closer to one of the torches and he has a much better view of Len. The merman's eyes are blue but look darker. His hands are delicate but not feminine. When people say half-man, half-fish, they don't even start describing just how beautiful the tail of a mermaid is. And how long. It must be at least 4 times the length of Len's torso. It's a swirl of cold blues and shining whites. Two pairs of stark white fins close to the hips. It's magnificent. Len looks smug and somewhat pleased by the appraising look.

 

“You came back.” Mick says.

 

“Well, you haven’t been doing your job properly.” Though he sounds reproachful, there's something almost sugary in the merman's voice.

 

“I’m just one man. Can’t expect too much.”, Mick complains a bit.

 

Len snorts. “Obviously.”

 

* * *

 

Len isn’t sure what brought him back to the ship. He could have sank it easily. A bit of ice there and a few nicely placed icebergs and he would have been rid of those nuisances. Since when had humans started venturing this far up north anyway? But the human he met on the ship was interesting, with his bluntness and disbelief. Hadn't ran or bellowed for help. No, he had just stood there and looked at Len with this funny look. So when Len comes back and sees that man looking down into the water, eyes searching, he can't help himself and propels upwards. And the human doesn't disappoint. Len's using his charm voice, of course he is, but he's keeping it on a lower setting. He doesn't want to reduce that amusing creature into a begging bumbling mess. Where would be the fun in that.

 

Not that that had anything to do with his presence. He was there because of those damn humans that were polluting the ocean with, well, with their ships for starters, with their trash, their nets, their fucking existence. The only reason his kind tolerates humans is because they make mighty fine meals. The taste of inland meat is something that can’t be topped, some say. Len doesn’t care much but he’s not much of a gourmet. He just eats when he needs to, when his body tells him to.

So now, he’s on that horrible contraption humans use to travel by sea, looking at that human, whose head is either shaved or bald, who looks rugged and generally brownish.

 

“What are you here for anyway?”

 

There’s another reason Len’s actually interested in the ship and its occupants. He’s been following that ship ever since it entered ‘his’ waters and they’re headed straight to his personal cave, in which he lives and sleeps and stores his stuff. The thing is there’s not just rocks and his pet shark over there, it’s also where he keeps his treasure. Everything he looted from humans, everything he found in sunken ships, or got by sinking ships. It’s not worth that much but his kind has an habit of accumulating treasures of all kinds, especially outsiders like him. And they’re extremely protective of their loot. It’s instinct. If Len was to guess, he’d say it’s probably a way of compensating for the loneliness. But that’s not the point.

 

“Don’t even know where here is.” grunts the human, looking pissed by that fact.

 

You’re in the warm seas, just south of the North kingdom, Len would answer but those are his people definitions of the oceans, and Len’s pretty sure it wouldn’t mean anything for someone from the surface. There’s a thing that’s been bothering him though.

 

“What is your name, human?”

 

The human looks surprised, probably wondering why Len would ask for that, but he answers anyway. “Mick.”

 

“Well, Mick.” Len emphasize the name. He likes the way it sounds. “If you don’t know where, do you at least know why?”

 

The human-Mick makes a puffing sound.

“Capt’n said there was a treasure closeby.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Said it’d be ‘ _beyond anything we can imagine_ ’ ” Mick adds, clearly quoting someone.

 

“But there’s no land near.”

 

“I know, right?” Mick seems… unhappy? Maybe a little angry.

 

“Well, good luck. And stop throwing shit into my water.”

 

“Your water.”

 

“Yes, Mick. My water.”

 

Len moves and slides back into said waters, ready to head back home.

“Hey wait!”

 

Again? Len turns back to the hum-Mick, curious.

 

“You coming back tomorrow?” Carefully hidden under gruff, there’s a hopeful note in the man’s voice and really, Len should have expected that. He had used his charm after all.  
“Wouldn’t you like that.” and he dives, all thoughts of the human above water erased from his mind, the moment he’s completely submerged. It can’t be, right? How would they even know- No no, no human would know about a merpeople’s lair.

 

They can’t be after his treasure. … Can they?

 

 


End file.
